


A Spill of Ink

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Consensual Kink, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10237685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: Sam’s body has always been the enemy, something to hide. Janine is never going to hold with that.





	

“I’m not sure about this, Janine.” Sam shifted awkwardly, looking down at himself, at the sheer black stockings that Janine had laid out for him. “Maybe it’s a stupid idea. I’m an idiot.”

Janine turns to him from where she’s rummaging through her wardrobe and Sam catches a glimpse of the smooth wooden box where she keeps her tools. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Why is it a stupid idea?”

He’d sort of expected her to laugh it off, tell him was being silly for being embarrassed. Or laugh. She could have laughed. His girlfriend back at uni had laughed at him, at least until she’d realised that he wasn’t joking.

He shrugged and picked up one of the stockings, rubbing the material between his fingers. “It’s weird. Shameful. I don’t even know why I thought of it.”

She makes a disapproving noise and straightens up, her hands on her hips as she looks at him. “Mr. Yao, there is absolutely nothing shameful about liking something.” She must catch his dubious expression because she sighs, her expression softening. “A kink is nothing shameful, so long as it’s done properly. I intend to do these things properly, without judgement. However, if you truly are uncomfortable, then we will stop.”

He stares at her for a long moment, his eyes wide. He’s not sure what to say to that. It sounded so different to anything he’d ever been told. He glanced down at the stockings, imagined the feel of them on his legs. He bit his lip and then nodded. “Okay.”

He perched on the end of the bed, catching just a second of Janine’s smile, and pulled off his trousers. He slips his toes into the first one, trying to slide his foot all the way down.

“Roll them from the bottom,” Janine says, without even turning around.

He blinks and then does as she says. They slide up smoothly, soft against his skin and he shivers at the feeling of it. The elastic at the top settles around his thigh and he looks down at his leg for a moment, running his hand up and down. The other stocking follows quickly. He can’t resist smiling.

He startles when Janine taps his shoulder. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” he admits after a moment, his smile widening. “Yeah, it does.”

She gives an approving nod. “Good. Now, if you want to remove your t-shirt.”

He froze, ice through his veins at the order. “I- I’m not sure…”

“Mr. Yao. Sam. You’ve already taken one step, is one more so bad? I confess, I’m surprised that with the weather we’ve had recently, you haven’t taken off your shirt before. Everyone else seems to be.” Her lips curl in amusement and she squeezes his shoulder gently.

“I know, I know I just…” He sucks in a deep breath and bows his head. His t-shirt, a scruffy old batman shirt that’s his favourite because it’s one of the few things from home that he’d brought with him, gets tugged off over his head and dropped alongside his trousers. He wraps his arms defensively around himself.

Janine makes a soft noise, a gasp of surprise and Sam hunches down like he can hide everything with just his arms.

“Mr. Yao, I had no idea.” She reaches out to touch his arm, where swirls of leaves curl down over his shoulder to his elbow. He’d never finished getting the sleeve filled in; some of the lines are still without colour, just dark outlines.

His laugh is weak, strained. “Yeah. Neither did my dad. Thank god. He would’ve gone ballistic. So I hid it.”

Even at university with his mates, he’d kept his shirt on, because his dad was pretty good at Facebook and all it took was for someone to tag the wrong thing.

“It seems a shame,” Janine says, following the lines of the vines back up his arm to his collarbone where they twist into ribbons and asymmetrical shapes.

“He hated tattoos,” Sam says. “He said they made people look like thugs and they’d only regret them in a few years. I asked once,” he says, a bitter twist of a smile on his lips, “and he said how would I be a professional engineer if I had rubbish like that?”

It seems so stupid now of course. Tattoos and getting a job are the least of anyone’s worries.

“You would be surprised how little they matter in a lot of professions if you’re good enough,” Janine says. She leans in, her lips brushing against the nape of his neck where the thin red lines start, curling down and outwards. They feel warm and soft against his skin. “Why keep getting them?”

Sam shrugs uncurling a little. “Dunno. I got one and then I just… it’s kind of addictive. Like… it hurts but it feels really good too. And it’s really pretty. I like how it looks.”

Her lips graze lower, a kiss between his collarbones. “That seems reasonable, Mr. Yao,” and her voice has dropped to that husky register that makes goosebumps raise on his skin and heat flush through his body. “I rather like how they look too.”


End file.
